Our Forever Has Begun
by SueCue
Summary: One breathtaking moment in time, that might never have come, following by the aftermath of the crippling war. Winners and losers...and all the angst in-between. This is just an alternative, not dogmatic in the least, of Katniss and Gale not at odds with each other.
1. Chapter 1

"We could still do it you know."

His terse statement fills her ears, impelling her heart to beat faster, with ragged intensity. Take on the Capitol, just they two, without any assistance from the resistance. "Do what?" Katniss asks, slightly dizzy from the blazing sunlight and the rock-hard security of Gale's voice. The recent memory of her resting her head on his broad shoulder trips her up. Having him close is addicting. She nearly spills into the fast-moving water, as her feet skid off the rocks like stepping stones. But he's there, his hands fly to her waist to set her level with the slick slabs. She's all ears, hearing him breathe, relieved, because he's saved her from a certain drenching.

"Watch yourself, twinkletoes," Gale chides, holding her tightly, never wishing to let her go, lest he lose her for good. Has he lost her already, to war, derangement, obsession? Yes, it's clear she loves Peeta, but is there no love in her heart for _him_? The man who'd gladly die for her, but would much rather live for her. Live to love her until he breathes no more. He doesn't hate Peeta for treason, per se; Gale disparages the captive for usurpation. The imprisoned blond has stolen the heart of the love of his life. And what can he do about that? Aside from pine in silence for a dauntless girl, who'd taken her sister's place to save her life.

Katniss clings to Gale as though he's the only lifeline available. She appears badly shaken. Lest he gets carried away by his comprehensive feelings of overwhelming dashed hopes, he smiles and gently his lips settle against Katniss' downy scalp; she smells like delicate hyacinth. He resists the urge to raise her, anchor her in his arms, where she belongs. He knows it's where she belongs, but does she?

Gale waits, as though he's mentally ticking off the countdown in his head. Impulse getting the better of him, he scoops the battle-tested veteran up into his arms, waiting for her protest. He waits, but one never comes, and he brightens.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, Katniss speaks. "What can we do?" she presses. If she's the least surprised by his actions, she doesn't show it. She's more surprised by his reticence. He's usually not one for holding back. He'd gone through a period of being laconic, but since the destruction of District 12, he's not like that anymore. He's vocal, volatile and loudmouthed, depending on the occasion. In the Mess Hall, no one had better crowd Katniss to get a closer look at her; they'd hear about that from him.

"Let's get out of here. You, your mother, Prim. Buttercup too." _That onery cat as well_, Katniss thinks, frowning; _really_? Following his sigh, Gale exhales, "And me, and mine." Hefting _his_ girl in his arms he begins the rest of the trek across this stretch of rushing water, picking and choosing which rocks to alight on carefully. How would it be if, together, they fell in and got soaked?

He'd asked this of her before, what seems so long ago, pre-her very first Game. As was true then, is true now. The idea is preposterous; more so because whom she loves so much is depending on her to save him from Snow's cruelty. She hasn't the heart to tell Gale this is how she truly feels just as she hadn't been able to tell him back when she was no victor, and Peter Mellark was an unknown.

"I'm serious."

"I know that. You've always been serious about getting as far away from this as you possible can."

"That's never changed," Gale assures, firming his already tight grip on her.

Wreathing her arms about his neck more securely, Katniss rather enjoys being ferried in this fashion. It's much like gliding along in one of the rebel fighters, without all the noise, and the impending sense of doom, along for the ride. Gale, in his own straightforward way means well, but what he suggests is no option at all. What will become of the other tributes held in the Capitol? What about Peeta, his fate sealed by her thoughtlessness because she chose to run away instead of sticking with the rebels to extract him and the others? She knows Gale is only thinking of her, but his recommendation is flat-out unsuitable. It's unconscionable, unworthy of an ounce of consideration.

They're almost on solid footing; the sandy shore is coming up fast. Katniss feels Gale's anticipation, waiting for her answer. Hesitating before giving him hers, she gazes up at the sky just in time to see a proud mockingjay soar overhead. She doesn't have to wait long to see others commanding the sky above their heads. These birds, which had been created by mistake, fill her heart and mind with purpose. The pin she wears on her chest feels alive, as though by some inexplicable ability, it might free itself to take wing, joining the live fowl. Captivity isn't for birds, nor anyone.

"Well, are you with me?" Gale nudges with words patiently-spoken. Woods are plentiful, which is home for the game that will sustain them and the cover to hide them. They need to flee to The Wilds, or Norland, where the country is as broad as the eye can see. He begins detailing the daring plan of escape, seeing Katniss' faraway look slant her eyes.

"I'd never want to be without you." Said with the least bit of breath held, as though she's holding something fragile in her warrior hands. Katniss doesn't let herself down from his arms when she and Gale are standing on the shore and he begins lowering her. He does nothing to dissuade her from quitting him; he likes her in his arms like this. Just like this. He toys with the idea of pulling her quivering lips in for a solid, smoldering kiss, but he holds back. The look she's giving him, one too good to be true, is straight out of his many vivid dreams wherein they live blissfully content. Ever after…the way it should have been if not for this wretched existence the Capitol, of ill-conceived Panem, forces them to live.

"What are you thinking?" he can't resist asking. This is a side of Katniss he never thought he'd see again, not after those barbaric, senseless Games, where the odds are never in any one of the victims' favor. As far as Gale is concerned, even victors are victims. No one emerged from the bloodlust unscathed.

"I'm thinking I wish we didn't have to go back so soon. Maybe no one will miss us if we don't report."

Rolling his eyes, eyes many a pretty girl has gotten lost in, Gale nods. "They'd miss you all right. You're _IT_ for them. The symbol of the revolt. Me…" He shakes his head. "Me they wouldn't miss so much. I'm just a follower. No one to get excited over."

"You're more than that and you know it," Katniss splutters hotly. "You're loyal and true—and you're smart. Smarter than Beetee even." She wields her words like an IED. "You're one of the major reasons I'm here, putting up with their being what they want me to be."

"Oh I am? Am I?" Gale pokes, fascinated by her groundswell of emotion. So maybe she is capable of feeling something for him other than pity. He can't walk off now although he wants to. They really need to get back; they've been ordered to. Fifty-ish Alma Coin, the 'silver fox,' his private nickname for the commander-in-chief, brooks no excuses when it comes to showing up late for official briefings. This is a rebellion they're orchestrating, which she's bent on winning, not coordinating some dog and pony show. "You have a problem with iconic?" His smirk taunts Katniss, but he isn't baiting her, she clearly sees. No, Gale is, in his own way, placating her. He's an expert at it.

She assumes he wants her to decide that his idea that they make a break for their own personal freedom has grown on her. Katniss is determined to let him down easy. They are friends for life; this is no time to put a crimp in what they've always had. Each other. So, she takes him by his hand and simply replies, "I have a problem with having problems. The biggest problem being rescuing the victors from the Capitol. Until they're here with us, safe, this is me—distressed."

"Seeing you distressed, distresses me," he utters, sounding at odds with himself. He's unable to express himself properly, for fear she'll lose faith in him, along with respect. The victor she's stressing over most is Peeta, her darling of the arena. She just won't come out and say so. Mellark, who may or may not be as wholesome as he seems, appearing with Caesar Flickerman, who's been doing interviews for 35 years, is the apple of her eyes. It's the pits. "So, I guess this means running away is out."

"One day, we'll be free to go wherever, whenever we want to. But for now, we need to remain in District Thirteen with these people. We need their help, Gale. _They_ need ours." She clarifies who the 'they' are, seeing ambivalence strongly take root in his handsome face sullied by fatigue. "The _victors, _first and foremost."

Stepping in close to her again, he gives in. Only for Katniss will he concede. "For a better life. For us all," he whispers, gladdened when she allows him to wrap her up in his arms again and she stands in his unyielding embrace like she'll never be able to tear herself away from him. Gale works an arm free, enabling him to cup her face with a firm hand. Katniss' eyes are closed as she waits, not saying anything, waiting for what she won't reject, although torn.

Gale's lips, seeking hers, find them. Time does funny things, not the least of which is stand still as these refugees from the former District 12 revel in each other. All too abruptly, they are summoned back to the installation for the third time. Unanimously, Katniss and Gale decide Coin and her rag-tag band can wait. _This_, entwining of hearts, is infinitely more important…


	2. Chapter 2

Glued to the chair in ex-President Snow's former mansion, Katniss sighed, counting the beats of her heart, hearing them be the only sound in the empty sitting room where dark shadows crept. As the walls writhed, the handwriting on them jittered; she never wanted to see him again as long as she lived. He had betrayed her, had trampled what she thought they cherished, dragging it through the mud, then spitting on truth and right. And as she blinked, the word she never thought she would utter echoed in her mind, binding her to the finality of the decision she'd made. Her fury subsiding from its fever pitch, the anger behind what she had said quelled. Torn to the root of her heart, she loved him still. That love encased in stone now, he dead to her.

"Gale," hushedly tumbled from her trembling lips as unshed tears quivered in her eyes which burned with a will all their own. With eyes ablaze squeezed shut, Katniss lulled herself, rocking back and forth in the hard chair. She could not forgive the unimaginable harm he'd done. "Goodbye…" This time, her voice didn't shake when she uttered it to the room that was as noiseless as a tomb. She felt as if she'd been buried alive.

He was gone now, having never looked back as he'd quietly closed the heavy door behind himself. The thickness of the room's walls had prevented his retreating footfalls from penetrating. Had he half-expected her to call him back? Although he had, he knew she would not. She, change her mind? The mighty Mockingjay admit that she had been too hard on him? Or, not hard enough. She'd neither ranted, nor raved, bottling her violence lest she unleash what would be her undoing. His deepest regret did not serve to change her heart. As he'd stood at the closed door, straining to hear her call him back, Gale had waited, but was not granted a stay of dismissal from her life. Her ire was rabid. He'd waited in vain. No perdition sufficed for his sin. His failure to protect Prim and the myriad deaths his callous machinations had wrought was abysmal. His crime, too great.

He had shaken his head as he'd walked off, resigned to abide by her decision. She would never forgive him, a fact he had no other choice but to accept. Tears had been in his eyes too and he'd whisked them away with a brusque swipe of his unsteady hand as he left the mansion in disgrace. She loathed him, nothing he could do or say could atone for what he had done. He was despicable, infamous, no better than Snow and Coin. Perhaps he was worse. Those children selected for obliteration had been defenseless as opposed to all the tributes who had at least been armed for a fighting chance to survive.

Determination, fierce and purposeful gripped Gale as he decided right then and there that he would remain in the Capitol. District 12, a world forsaken, would never feel like home ever again. He would start over, start fresh; live life anew because this was no ending, just the beginning. He'd lick his wounds and vowed he would love again. He would fall hard and fast, resolved not to look back. To look back would ruin him.

But, already, he feared what stagnant nights and restive sleep would bring as surely as a wounded, cornered animal was the most dangerous. His lost, beloved, brunette, the embodiment of hunter-warrior would torment him in fitful slumber as he dreamt.

Much later, as the shadows in the room grew even longer, Katniss still hadn't moved from the chair as if it held some eerie power over her. She stared straight ahead, her gaze laser-like, sitting there trying to muster dignity, along with feeling dead inside. All she and Gale had shared had slipped into the void she willed those memories to go. Her breathing shallow, her vision dim, she concentrated on the future. One devoid of her once integrity-keeping consummate hunter, who would certainly invade her dreams, shredding them as she tossed and turned. His empty eyes weighed heavily on her; the last look he'd given her had broken her heart, which explained why it was beating irregularly now once again. Heat flared on her flushed cheeks. Her throat tight, her chest as well, Katniss hadn't cried; she would not. She had cried herself all out long before this sad day of severing ties. Sensitized, she feebly sighed, sighed again and wished her head would stop spinning.

Shaking it slightly, Katniss opened her heavy eyes, weary with grief. The room tilted on its axis as fragmented images swirled over the bleak ornate walls. Tense muscles in her ashen face tightened. A flood of warmth bathed her as the strong, pliant column of her neck twitched. Fresh anger darkened her solemn deep brown eyes. What had made Gale so cruel during the desperate, poisoning times? How had she missed it? Always the pragmatic hunter, now responsible for the annihilation of innocent children—of Prim—how had he become a monster under her nose? Katniss wagged her head from side to side. No, never; she'd _never_ forgive him! Bellicose, she clenched her rough hands. Growling, she contracted her jaw, tired and welcoming the feeling. It was close to suppertime and food wasn't a bad idea right now, realizing how hungry she felt.

With that, she grunted quietly then, frowning as Gale's words clouded her mind. His words, whispered… "I didn't take care of your family. It's something I'll never live down. Never erase from memory."

"And—you destroyed many, many more!" she had railed. "How could you have done such wicked, terrible things? I don't know you!"

She sank back down into the chair, gripping the chair's armrests. She trained her sight on the far wall, muttering as she mentally sorted through the wreckage of all those helpless, frail lives, cut down in the flower of their youth. Ruthlessly, she cursed his evil plot, wanting to blot him out along with his villainy. Her proud shoulders slumped; her lower back sagged and she pressed her lips together, straining his name and what she felt through them.

"I hate you more than I still love you!"

Lost did not begin to describe how adrift she was. Reality crashed in on her like a bull in heat conquering a cow. Feeling like gak Prim's cat too easily threw up, Katniss slammed both fists into the armrests. Breath exploded from her as her hawkish expression lost much of its edge. Though dark, biting feelings still hounded her, she slowly relented. Intense hatred melded with empathy. What if he'd been coerced? If he hadn't gone along, Coin's supporters might have named him a loyalist. Those notions tempered her, gave her something to mull over until she had to admit again that she still loved Gale, always would. The ice clogging her heart slowly melted and she freely acknowledged that what she still felt for him should move her to seek him out. If there was a bottom to why he'd done what he'd done, she would make him admit it to her. She would listen instead of malign.

Rising from the straight back chair as though it were ousting her, Katniss strode for the door Gale had gone through over an hour ago. Renewed in spirit, she flung open the barrier, prepared to overcome the dingy phantoms of the merciless past and get to the truth.

And if after he admitted that the slaughter that had been planned had not originated with him, she would unfaltering challenge him to challenge her. She chomped at the bit for the quiz.

"You love me?" Gale would ask. "Real, or not real?"

And the words, unfaltering, honest and true, would leap from her mouth.

"I love you, Gale. _Real_. Despite what you might have thought, I always loved you more."

And then life, free and undaunted, in the New Panem would truly begin.


End file.
